


Taste/Scent/Title:  A Hit is as Good as a Miss/Short Sheeted/ Always the Cut up/Game point/When to Say When

by spikesgirl58



Series: the drabble affairs [3]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:33:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: More Drabbles - mostly slash
Series: the drabble affairs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120757
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Taste/Scent/Title:  A Hit is as Good as a Miss/Short Sheeted/ Always the Cut up/Game point/When to Say When

Prompt – Taste.

He was so close he could practically taste it. The tension had been building up, the string in him tightening until he thought he would scream. It was all around him, in his nostrils, on the tip off his tongue.

Illya closed his eyes and prayed for control, prayed for something, anything to happen before he exploded. He wondered if Napoleon felt the same. He wondered if Napoleon ever licked his lips in frustration and need.

Not Napoleon. The man spoke calm control and finally Illya could stand it no more and snapped, “Napoleon, must you wear so much cologne?”

Prompt – Scent

“It’s all yours.”

Napoleon glanced up from a tangle of notes. Illya was wearing a thin blue robe and was busy toweling his hair dry. Napoleon could practically see the outline of Illya’s body and he hurried averted his eyes.

“Thanks!” He grabbed his kit and practically ran into the still steamy bathroom. 

Turning on the shower, Napoleon carefully stepped into the tub and under the water. Then he froze. Just for a moment, a familiar scent caught his nose, a smell that only came from another man. Napoleon smiled. _Illya jacked off in the shower. That’s interesting. But why?_

  
Prompt – beaker

Napoleon watched Illya carefully pour the red fluid into the blue. The resulting purple was very pleasant until the mixture began to froth for a moment, then nothing. 

“Well, that’s a little anti-climatic,” he muttered and yawned.

“You should know all about that.” Illya set the beaker down.

“Hey, one time.”

“Once is enough in the right circumstances.”

Napoleon stood and left while Illya merely reached for another flask.

“What was that all about?” Mark asked, approaching.

“Napoleon suffers from premature trajeculation.”

“What?”

“He shot something and missed.”

“And you haven’t let him forget it.”

Illya grinned. “Never.”

Prompt – bed

They wearily trudged up the stairs to their hotel room, exhausted and filthy.

“I can’t believe this.” Illya tried not to leave marks on the wall. “Who hides a code book in a flower bed?”

“That had been fresh fertilized?” Napoleon winced as they entered their room. “I’m going to have to burn my suit.” He sniffed. “Possibly me, as well.”

Illya found a plastic bag and thrust it to him. “For your convenience and for the comfort of the staff.”

“Waverly better appreciate this.”

“He always does and it could be worse.”

“How?”

“At least we have the book.”

  
  
Prompt - scissors

“Get away.”

“It’s for your own good.” Napoleon held his scissors at ready. 

“I don’t care.”

“I don’t believe this. Illya, you are a grown man. Now sit down before Waverly sees you. These are his orders, after all.”

Resigned, Illya returned to the table and picked up his own pair of scissors. With a sigh, he began to cut, slowly and without any feeling.

“But look at the new skills you are learning.” Napoleon looked at his pattern. “Do you know what a dart is?”

“You don’t want me armed at the moment.” Whoever heard of UNCLE agents sewing?

  
Prompt - phone

Both men ignored the ringing phone. Their concentration was completely upon the task before them. Each one was poised for action, every muscle tensed, prepared to take this battle to its end.

A trickle of sweat rolled down Illya’s temple. “Move, Napoleon, I can’t breathe.”

“Breathing is overrated.”

“Answer the phone. It might be Waverly.”

“He’d use the communicator. You are not wiggling out of this.”

“That’s the truth. Tell me that’s your elbow.”

“You wish.”

“Na **pol** eon,” Illya ground out. ”Get off.”

“Not until you say it.”

“Fine, you are the Twister Champion of all time. Now answer the phone.”

  
  
Prompt – bear

Sarah sat down at her desk and pulled off the typewriter cover. “Watch what you say today.”

“What’s wrong?” 

“I was just two minutes later and he growled at me like he was a bear or something.”

“He’s your boss.”

“He’s still grumpy. I wish he’d retired.”

Alexander Waverly came in on the last bit of that and had to admit he agreed. He wished he could retire, too. Everyone seemed much more lax and uncaring. He went to his office and picked up his phone. “Send me Mr. Solo.”


End file.
